One of the worst people I know got an OAM. So I’ve decided to act

One of the worst people I’ve ever known has an Order of Australia medal.

It’s an award that goes to people who have provided service worthy of recognition. And while this individual might have technically ticked this box, they received the honour not for a contribution towards the good of the community, but for services that are essentially commercial and self-serving.

Bad appointments have the power to undermine the sanctity of the entire awards system.Credit: Peter Braig

Pondering the rights and wrongs of how these awards are distributed has led me down a jagged path. It’s a version of the Kübler-Ross model: there is bewilderment, then denial, then disbelief. Then, the urge to email the judging committee and ask, did you do your homework on this person? Then, the final stage, which could have been grim acceptance, as per Kübler-Ross. But I’ve decided to take a more lateral approach.

It’s not difficult to find information on how the awards are distributed. Anyone can nominate someone by submitting them online to an independent body, the Council for the Order of Australia. Appointed by the governor-general, the 19-member council meets twice a year and considers the applications.

About five years ago, the awards came under scrutiny after a handful of controversial appointments, including the decision to give former tennis player Margaret Court the highest honour despite her unpleasant views around LGBTQ+ and transgender issues.

In 2020, the award given to men’s rights activist and friend to Bruce Lehrmann, Bettina Arndt, was even challenged by Senator Sarah Henderson.

While the rules allow for awards to be revoked, they generally are not, making it fairly clear to me that old mate’s gong wouldn’t be rescinded any time soon.

For me, and other Australians, bad appointments have the power to undermine the sanctity of the entire awards: it reduces trust in the process and leads us to question the merit of all awardees. If the council can get it so, so wrong, then how can we have any trust that the process isn’t flawed, or a box-ticking exercise?

In among my ponderings, however, I remembered a conversation with a former colleague, a prominent journalist. After being similarly chagrined about an OAM awarded to someone he felt was undeserving, he took up arms (or in his case, the pen). He started seeking out the names of people he felt deserved to be nominated, and did the work, gathering paperwork and testimonies, to put their names forward. Often, they have been Indigenous women working at the community level, a group whose work has enormous impact but often is the least recognised. His actions are inspired.

Most nominees to the process are successful. According to a count done by The Guardian, roughly three-quarters of those nominated receive awards. With no caps in place to number of awards, putting forward more nominations should result in an increase in the number of OAMs, with the good driving out the not-so-good.

So, to compensate for the awful choice of awarding an OAM to old mate, I’m now going to start paying it forward by regularly nominating people who actually deserve it. They will be mostly, but not all, women, and those who have “made a contribution over and above what might reasonably be expected through paid employment”, and whose “contribution to the community stands out”, as per the guidelines.

I have my first nominee in mind, a doctor who noticed patterns among her patients which led to sustained advocacy, which led to legislative change, which will go on to help one of the most vulnerable subsets in the community.

It is a small act that anyone can copy. Find someone worthy – who is probably too busy to nominate themselves via a friend – and do the work of making sure they get the recognition for the good they are doing.

Aarti Betigeri is a journalist and writer.

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